


Between Cookbooks and Spells

by minnie313



Category: The Nanny
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2018-08-24 01:04:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 18,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8350105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minnie313/pseuds/minnie313
Summary: A/N : Hello, hello ;) I rediscovered this fandom about 6 months ago, and since then, I have watched the whole series twice – I had not seen it since my childhood. CC and Niles have always been my two favourite characters, and recently, a Muse has come to shake me from my writing blocks … She insisted I do something about those two, however bad it may be, before she let me work in peace and finish “Nox Turbida” :) So here goes my first Nanny fic.Disclaimer: I do not own The Nanny or anything related to it, it is the property of its owners and creators: Fran Drescher, Peter Marc Jacobson, CBS, Highschool Sweethearts, etc.Summary: a collection of works pertaining to CC and NilesRating will vary with the different drabbles





	1. The Case of the Missing Cheesacake Slice

**Author's Note:**

> Genre: Humor/Mystery  
> Rating: T

Niles Andrew Brightmore – mostly referred to as _“Niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiles”,_ butler of Maxwell Sheffield, Broadway producer, was in a bit of a conundrum. This month, every time he had baked a cheesecake – peanut butter, strawberry and white chocolate, dark chocolate and salted caramel, brown sugar toffee, or even vanilla with fresh forest fruits, the last slice, the one he always kept for himself, safely hidden behind rows and rows of junk food, had _disappeared._

The butler and self-appointed _missing cheesecake PI_ , could go so far as to say that the baked good had been _stolen_ and _eaten_ by a most cunning sub-zero burglar of the household. Indeed, the culprit knew his diversion tactics, his habits - eating and otherwise, and could work around his schedule. They also had to have an easy access to the kitchen and be familiar with the sub-zero’s organisation.

There were only four possible suspects, all female. Mrs Sheffield, former nanny and serial junk food eater, known to eat cheesecakes and Ben & Jerry’s straight from the plate or the carton when emotional. Miss Grace Sheffield, a young Freud-oriented mind, who resorted to sweets when she needed a happy boost. Mrs Sylvia Fine, Mrs Sheffield’s mother, who could be seen continuously eating from dawn to dusk. Although the lady chose quantity over quality, Niles’ cheesecakes were certainly a favourite among the household, and thus of Sylvia. And Miss C. C. Babcock, whose elusive first name was a mystery Niles himself had finally resolved only a year before. She was Mr Sheffield’s demanding and efficient business partner, and although Niles would never admit it aloud, a woman whose good looks rivalled only with her brains. There was a _merry war_ between them – jokes, name calling, pranks and the like, and the Wicked Witch of the Upper East Side – as he liked to call her – _had_ been known to indulge in his bakes. He knew she found them divine, although she would never admit it.

The remaining members of the household, Mr Sheffield, Master Brighton Sheffield and Miss Margaret Sheffield, never cared for more than one slice, if they did eat the dessert, cheesecake not being their favourite. In his bad luck, Niles could count himself lucky that the missing goods were not his _death by chocolate_ cake, or he would never be able to eliminate any of the suspects.

When the first theft occurred, Niles had simply put it on Mrs Fine’s propensity to quickly smell food and find it. However, for the last three had happened when Sylvia Fine was away on holiday in Florida. There was no way she was the cheesecake thief. Then, half amused, half annoyed, he had put it on Mrs Sheffield or Miss Grace’s need for an emotional pick me up. But they would not have passed up on the diversions, would they? Unless they had had a craving for his cheesecake that had not been appeased by dessert… And as for Miss Babcock… well, most of the time, he was not sure what was going on in that lovely head of hers. If this was a prank, he could not see its end. If this was an indulgence, he could not see the need for stealing: although he did tease her mercilessly on her appearance, she was back to her ideal weight and was no longer that bothered by his remarks.

Niles, member of the famous Butlers Association, master in law, was positively stymied. He could not seem to be able to catch the fiendish cake eater, and he was growing frustrated cheesecake by cheesecake. So far, he had booby trapped the kitchen, but had only managed to get himself caught. He had also stayed up late, hidden in a cosy corner of his pantry, to catch the thief _in flagrante delicto_. He had been so tired of a day of games with Miss Babcock, however, that he had ended up asleep in his armchair. He had tried to discern the fragrance left by the conniving female, but no sniff had given him ample enough material to find out who it was.

This time, he had resolved to wait up, with a thermos full of good coffee, hidden in a dark and uncomfortable corner of the kitchen. The cheesecake slice was waiting peacefully in the sub-zero for the revealing bite. He checked the time: 10:23 pm. He waited, and waited, and waited again. No one came. Hoping that the cheesecake stealer had given up, he opened the door of the frozen wonderland and looked for his slice. He could feel himself salivating at the idea of devouring this one: it was a special recipe that he had created specially to entice the guilty taste buds, and he was sure that it was a piece of paradise.

“Nooooooooooooooooooooo” he moaned. The burglar had foiled him again! And he had taken great care not to be away from the kitchen after putting the slice in its place… He tried to recall who he had seen coming and going from his domain, but had to forfeit when he felt his head becoming woozy from the lack of sleep. It was only when his head hit the pillow that he remembered the faint scent of Chanel #5 that had lingered near the sub-zero after he had gone to the loo that one time between his guards. _“So, witch, you ARE the cheesecake burglar”_ he thought, as he started to dream about ways to unmask her.

The following morning, as Miss Babcock took her place at the breakfast table, he did not bring her the usual eggs, sausage and toast, but another slice of cheesecake. Under the mystified gaze of the Sheffields, she took a bite and savoured it, closing her eyes to get the full experience. Knowing fully well that he had identified her as the cheesecake thief who had given him such frustration the past month, she could not help a cheeky commentary:

“Well, Butler Boy, what can I say? I _do_ enjoy sampling your goods”


	2. Thrice the Pomeranian hath bark'd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genre: Horror  
> Rating: M

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N : Hello, hello :) since the first OS seems to have worked well (on ffnet anyway), I decided to write another one, of a different kind :p As always, please comment by way of reviews, I like to know what others think of my stories :)  
> This OS will be quite deconstructed (on purpose), and might not appeal to everyone, that’s alright :), I’m experimenting, so tell me all about it with lots of constructive criticism (as long as you say it nicely :p)

The cold sun of a January morning shone its rays through the window as Chastity Claire Babcock, fought the remnants of sleep from her brain. Tiredness had finally vanquished the tendrils of insomnia that imprisoned her, and she had succumbed to a mostly dreamless sleep. For a moment, her frazzled mind blanked out as something wet, warm and raspy made contact with her nose. She forced herself to open one eyelid. To her surprise and annoyance – had she been more awake, she might have recognized that it was mixed with affection, Chester, her fluffy baby was licking her face.

Immediately, she pushed him away and shot up, thoughts of Niles dog jibes making her smile. She felt happier today than she had been in a while: the Pomeranian diva did like her, after all. Not that he was not affectionate to her when they were at the penthouse, but face licking had always been reserved to Na- _Mrs Sheffield_. When he was happy and wanted to show it to Chastity, the canine usually wiggled his little tail – _There went another of Niles’ zingers_ – or nuzzled her hand. They cuddled, sometimes he shared the bed – _Chester was her baby, after all_ – but it ended there, thus the cheer that was slowly spreading through her.

Feeling slightly apprehensive about the day _– Something was bound to go wrong, she just knew it –_ the woman opened the partly opened curtains. C. C. Babcock – for that was how she was known to the world – had never been happy about the presence of canine dribble on her face, but now it seemed to have put her in a good mood. So, it was slightly humming to herself that she went to the bathroom to remove said saliva from her skin.

She was still humming when she entered the cab that would bring her to the Sheffield’s mansion, where she liv… - _worked_ – her mouth already watering at the prospect of the breakfast Niles had no doubt prepared. She was also anxious to see and hear what pranks and zingers he had prepared for her. In a place where Fran Fine was queen – even the bloody _dog_ liked her better, for heaven’s sake, and everyone liked her better – even Niles, but she was not about to analyse how _that_ felt – C. C. was glad that someone did things just for her.

At 8:30 am sharp, Chastity Claire Babcock rang the bell of the Sheffield mansion. Absentmindedly she wondered why it seemed sombre, darker, somehow. _“Must be my imagination”_ she thought. Nobody answered. The door seemed stuck. It could be one of Niles’ pranks, but it did not seem like his usual style… and she had made sure to tell him that she would be eating breakfast here today – so that he knew that he had to prepare more food. That was … odd. And the nagging feeling of oppression was becoming stronger.

Chester barked. She frowned. She did not even remember having brought her with him, but it shook her from her contemplation. She turned to the street.

The air had become chilly, and a fog had descended upon the area. She shivered. Why did it suddenly feel like the temperature had dropped since she arrived? The fog, the bell, the house, Chester being here instead of at the penthouse… something did not add up, and all she was left with was a feeling of unease and not being at the right place.

She turned her head toward the house again. She felt it looming, like a predator menacing its prey. Yes, hunted, that was how she felt. Like a prey.

Something moved in the shadows. A groan. A roar. Then a blurry mass of aiming straight to her.

_Tuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuut Tuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuut Tuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuut !!!!!!_

Chastity Claire Babcock shot up in her bed panting, her eyes mad. She quickly scanned the room, and her heartrate slowly began to quieten when she realised that she was in her bedroom. In her penthouse. She let out a shaky breath and ran a hand through her tousled hair. She would feel the sweat running down her body, and suddenly she had to get away. The dark was making her feel claustrophobic.

She turned on the light, and saw Chester running towards her. The annoying little fur ball rubbed his coat on her legs, and a feeling of warmth spread through her chest. She took him in her arms and petted him a little, rubbing her cheek in his fur. She would never admit it, but she did love the little guy.

Feeling less trapped, she put him back down and made her way to the bathroom. She splashed some water on her face, and yawned. She scrubbed her face clean, then took that much-needed shower. She still felt cold and sticky with sweat. Then, she completed her morning rituals, and _put her face on_. She chuckled. No need to admit to the thrower of that zinger that she used it almost daily to describe her prepping routine.

Feeling a little bouncy, for a change, she hummed as she chose exactly the right outfit for the day. It had to be something that would make her feel like the _powerful entity_ she was, after all. _Why on earth was she using Niles’ words? It was as if she needed them to cheer herself up after that strange nightmare…_ She sighed. Now, she was feeling down again. Why did she have to think? She should have understood long ago that thinking about things prevented her to enjoy them, to be in a good mood. She shook her head softly, and went out the door, saying goodbye to her _baby_ as she went.

At precisely 8:30 am, the cab dropped her off at the mansion. She paid him, and almost ran to the door. She did not know where that feeling of unease came from. The man had been like any other cab driver. She shook herself and rang. Then, she looked up, waiting for the Bell Boy to open. But nothing happened. No ringing, no one coming to open the door, the yellow taxi vanished. And was it her or did the mansion seem even darker than in her dream? Was it not looming even more?

She felt trapped. Drawing a shaky breath, she closed her eyes, and opened them again slowly. She frowned. Why was her respiration so constricted? When had that fog descended upon the area? In the distance, Chester barked. Behind the curtains, the shadows were moving. Chastity gritted her teeth. She was not going to let herself be impressed by it. She was a Babcock.

She pushed the door open, and entered the dark foyer. A darker, blurry thing brushed by her and took her into its arms, crushing her…

_Tuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuut Tuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuut Tuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuut !!!!!!_

Chastity Claire Babcock gasped awake. Something furry brushed by her and she screamed. Then, it barked, and she realised it was Chester. With shaky hands, she petted him softly, and tried to assess where she was. The crepuscular light of the morning was coming through the dark curtains. She could see an old Louis XVI chair and, a little further back, a dresser. She released the breath she had been holding, and put on the robe that had been resting on the chair.

She felt cold, and made her way towards Niles’ room on less than stable legs. Usually, she would have taken a shower, but today, she needed to see him to feel some sort of reassurance. That dream had felt too real.

She opened her door and was once again surprised at the vulnerability she felt. _“This is the mansion, you idiot. Get a grip on yourself!”_ Knowing that Niles’ room was on the same floor as the guest rooms, the room across from hers, actually.. Frowning, she softly knocked on the door, slowly opened it, and had to hold back a little squeak.

Even in the dim light, she could see that it was not Niles, but a creature with longer hair. She shakily opened one of the curtains, and shot back against the opposite wall. The creature’s tangled limbs were of an unnatural white, that gleamed in the moonbeam. Its lips were curved on an unnatural rictus, and full of blood. In fact, she could see a sea of dried up blood where the cover had moved. Her eyes scanned the creature in horror. When she saw the upper part of its face, she bit her lip so hard that it drew blood. That _dead thing_ looked like Grace…

She ran out of the room. Panting, she steadied herself on the wall. She looked at her hand: it was covered in blood. Her breathing was more and more irregular. She turned her head around, and could feel something lurking in there, mocking her. C. C. took the first turn right, to a strangely angled alcove. Absentmindedly, she noted that it used to be a straight hallway.

She opened another door, and stumbled upon Brighton’s corpse, devoid of blood. Another, and it was Maggie. Her head was spinning. She felt as if she had run 20 miles on an empty stomach. The dizziness was back. The house seemed darker still, and as silent as a cemetery. C. C. felt alone and trapped. She felt her mind shutting down minute by minute. She turned around, and around, and around at the same spot. She shot down the corridor and arrived at another door. Knowing that a gruesome vision was probably waiting to jump on her on the other side of the door, she closed her eyes.

The mocking was still there. In fact, it was even stronger. She could hear a sort of nefarious and cavernous laugh, a mix between creaky woods and groaning bears. She felt something trying to grab her, and quickly entered the room. She stumbled on something and fell on the moist carpet. She tried to pull herself back up, but slid on the tangled bedsheets. She tried to steady herself on the thing she had fallen on, and slid back down again.

After much effort, the woman was back up. The sound of the laugh seemed to have disappeared, and she thanked her lucky star for that. It was unnerving, and deafening. She could not, however, shake the feeling that _something_ was there, and had trapped her. That the something was amused by her reactions, and that it wanted to break her.

Something felt weird. Something did not add up. There was an oddness to the house, a malevolence, a crookedness. She looked down at the moist, sticky carpet and screamed.

Nanny Fine and Maxwell were dead. Their combined bloods had formed a sea of read on the white sheets and on the carpet.

She had to get out of here. And she still had to find Niles. Was he….?

She shot the door open and there he was, across the wall. Dark, handsome. A strange look on his face. She approached him, and touched his arm. He felt warm. Maybe she would not feel as cold, now.

She embraced him, relieved that he seemed alright. He did not move. She pulled back. His eyes seemed stuck on the same position. Then, she realised that something was running down her body. She looked down. Blood. Blood everywhere.

On his shirt. On the wall. On her clothes. On her arms on his neck. On her face.

She yelled in pain and realised she was crying. The tears were closing her vision, so she put a shaky hand to her cheek, and tasted it. Tangy. Metallic. Blood. She felt down the source of her pain. Something from the wall had stabbed Niles, and she had impaled herself to it. In a last moment, she rested her on his shoulder and kissed it.

_Biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiip Biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiip Biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiip_

And screamed.

C. C.’s piercing cries rang through the white walls, and with their usual pitter patter, the white coated people ran toward her, called by a nurse.

She opened her eyes, and was blinded by the white light of the lamp light above her. She tried to stand up, but she was strapped to the bed from the upper arm to the ankles. Her head shooting madly from side to side, she tried, to no avail, to shake of the leather straps. She could not recognise the place. She was feral like a wild cat caught in a net. Then, she felt something prick her left arm, and everything went black.

Somewhere in the distance, Chester barked.


	3. "Taming the Weather Forecast", a Christmas tale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genre: Romance/Fluff  
> Rating: K+

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I’ve had the idea for this plot jumping up and down in my poor brain for a while now, and decided to give it a shot :) It is based on the Nanny Christmas Special (Oy to the World”, but it has nothing to do with my contribution to the Advent Calendar, I have other fluffy plot bunnies running around for that :) And GOD, was it more difficult than I thought… I had to listen to my Christmas songs list, and it’s not even Halloween yet… ^^’

“It was a cold mid-December night, the kind of night where people cuddle around a cosy fire with hot cocoa or mulled wine. The kind of night where not even a cat could be seen rummaging through frozen bins. The kind of night alight with the echoes of the Christmas songs chimed by children all around town. The kind of night where families would dress their Christmas trees with their favourite baubles and shiny scarfs.

On those winter nights, Christmas cheer and freezing temperatures brought people together alike. In the North Pole, where Santa Sheffield lived, those nights brought the snowball fights and the marshmallow dips. In the morning, the candy canes, the sugar plums and the mallow cakes that grew in the gardens seemed to have royal icing on them. All around the town, the little elves baked with their moms, watched Christmas movies, and were delighted by the numerous activities of the holiday season. In the workshops, the elves repaired or built all the presents that would make people so happy.

But how would they know what to make, you ask me? Did they receive a list from each child in every country?

No. Not everyone sent their list to Santa. But he had a machine, a wonderful piece of Christmas technology, that had been given to him by a snow fairy. Everyone’s wish was sensed like a radio transmission, and the Elves tried to ensure that it would happen. For some, the wish was a toy, for others, money to make a difference, and some only wished something to take place. Those were the most difficult presents of all. For all Santa Sheffield’s powers – and distributing so many present in 24 hours was quite a feat – he could not ensure world peace, vanquish hunger or make you less lonely on the feasts. So, the elves made do, and gave something they still wished, under the direction of Chief Alfis.

He was the Director of the elves’ workshop, and handled Santa’s list. He was very clever and, for an elf, his size was not too tiny. While Santa was pretty, his braincells were not too sturdy and could not handle the pressure of more than the delivery. It was Alfis who made the decision, and handled the pressure. He was the Richelieu to his Louis.

It was also Alfis who handled the organisation of the Christmas feast and karaoke. Every year, he made a good Elvis impersonator. But, more importantly, he had always handled the mood of C. C. the Abominable Babcock, the ice princess with stormy thoughts who could be quite rude.

While she blew and blazed, he annoyed and teased. In response, she created blizzards, made the ice sturdy, and transformed the town into a giant Mr Freeze factory. Last year, a Nanny’s intervention had given the elves respite from Babcock’s attacks when she had hooked him up with the rain man.

This year, however, and this mid-December night, the ice princess was nowhere in sight. The snow had barely dusted the roofs, the ice could not hold the weight of a shoe, and you could forget about the temperatures that made the houses so cosy. It had been like this for the last few months since C. C.’s return. No one had seen her since, and she seemed to hold on her blowing winds. The news made Santa and the other elves very cheery, but it only served to make him more dour and broody.

He had to admit that he missed the sparring with the snow blowing hussy. All that cheer made him unhappy and lonely without the weather lady. Would there be no snow or blizzard anymore? Was his foe not going to change the town into a sub-zero? He realised that he had to see her now. Maybe he could fire he up, and everything would be like before. Maybe teasing her would make him less of a bore.

Making sure that no one saw him slip out, he made his way to the tower of ice and shadow, knocked three times on the door and, when it opened, made his way to the elevator. When he arrived at the top floor, no one was about. No Rain Man, No Ice Princess. He felt quite down. But Alfis decided he would simply wait for her to turn up. He sat down on an armchair, and counted the minutes.

After an hour, he was bored and had a frozen butt, so he got up, and decided to decorate C. C.’s living room. From a twig of evergreen, he grew a pine in full bloom. He put a stocking on the chimney, and holly at the windows. Knowing she loved sweets, he decorated with any _bonbon_ he could think of: there were mallow cakes and sugar plums, candy canes and mints, shortbread and mince pies, and pralines, and he even turned on some Christmas music.

The noise woke up the Abominable Babcock from her restless sleep. She went to the living room and found Alfis making his way to her kitchen after having redecorated. Her mouth was open in shock. Was it a prank?

“A-Alfis?”

Her voice startled the elf, who nearly had a heart attack.

“Well, look what the wind dragged in!” he said with a big smile.

“What... are you doing here, Santa’s little helper? What’s with the decorations, and the silly smile?! Is it another one of your jokes?” the ice princess had been anxious to see him after she had returned from her trip around the world with the rain something, who had been altogether boring. She had craved the tall elf’s annoying presence, had wanted to impress him with all the new weather tricks she had learnt at the Resort for her icy performance.

“I missed you, my yearly foe and annoyance. I decided that this year, since you did not want to appear out of your tower, I would bring Christmas cheer to make your mood….”

“Less dour?” she finished with a sort of smile. He nodded in rely. It was good that they could realise when the other wanted to be nice.

He chuckled and added “Indeed. But maybe the décor lacks in ice.”

She laughed at that and created delicate garlands and spider webs of intricate patterns and lacy fests. Frost lightly dusted the sweets and the candy canes. Afterwards, they had a good dinner, which Alfis prepared. He teased her and she blew a freezing breeze in his face.

Feeling happier that night, Alfis slept on her sofa while she created for him the snowy winter wonderland that he had admitted to love.

After that night, Alfis and the Not-So-Abominable Babcock were inseparable, and the weather was stable and, once more, typical of the North Pole. He called her while at work, and they had picnics, and dates and snowball fights. They were friends and in love, and had fun galore. They married on Christmas Eve, and never spent any other Christmas alone or bored.


	4. The star to every wandering bark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N : This idea came to me one evening, while I was half asleep. I thought it would be a nice way to try out a historical piece. English not being my first language, please feel free to point out any anachronism in vocabulary, expression or turn of phrase, as I did not have enough time to do any kind of research.  
> Genre: Romance/Angst  
> Rating: T+  
> AU: “Her Butler and his Socialite” Universe

The cold spring morning had not yet lost its fogginess when Niles Brightmore stirred on the bed. With a sigh, he glanced at the clock on the nightstand. 6 am. He closed his eyes again and nuzzled the neck of the warm body clutching him. He wanted to save the few moments between ticks and tocks, when they could be together. 

He sighed again and kissed her forehead. It was time to get up, and put on his bland, but very competent public persona. He went to the bathroom to wash himself, and dress. He felt tired, and he was only 42. It was no physical tiredness, but emotional troubles that pursued him and were threatening to break his spirit. Ten years ago, when they had entered this relationship, he had done so knowingly: she could never give him more than her nights. He knew she loved him, had felt her tenderness even then – as they were entering their strange relationship – when she had warned him: ‘You cannot possibly know that you will never regret it’ she had said. ‘It is not fair to you.’ ‘I could only end up hurting you.’ 

As if she did not share his burden… but she did. He knew she did. And even though he was tired, even though he sometimes wondered why he had to fall in love with her – and not have a less complicated history with someone else – he knew that he would stick by her side. 

At last, his livery was on, his clothes impeccably unruffled, his hair slicked back, he was in uniform. The picture of the perfect, silent, ever-efficient butler. He went back to the room, and saw that she was awake. 

He smiled as she mumbled his name through tired eyes.

“I am here, love” he whispered. 

“Niles” she repeated, holding out her hand to take his.

“Still there, love” he said cheekily, intertwining their fingers then bringing her hand to his lips for a soft kiss. 

“Do you really have to go now?” He had to laugh at the way she pouted. Cuter than the Sheffields’ five years old, his C. C..

“I do, love, but we’ll see each other at your breakfast, remember?”

“Hmm hmm” she said, visibly disappointed. But he couldn’t shirk on his duties. His boss was a real nightmare when her employees did not do their work.

“I’ll see you soon, C.C.” he said, leaving the room. 

Oh! He had not wanted to get up and leave her. When do I ever? he thought. Not being around her had been difficult for him ever since their first real conversation, and now, when his days revolved around managing her house, Niles could feel his will ebbing away, little by little: he was more and more reluctant to leave her alone in thei- her bed. 

Going public, however, was not an option. For either of them. The price would be too great. I word went around that C. C. Babcock had been in a relationship with her butler for the last eleven years, the onslaught would be major: her family would reject her, they might take her money, and he would have nothing to offer her. Nothing to support her. He ran his hands over his face, and made his way to the servant’s hall. Who could have thought that in the 1930’s, class differences would still be so high? And who could in good measure still accept that women were treated as minors all their lives when they should have as much opportunities as men? C. C. administered her business herself – and was she good at it!. He smiled ruefully as he thought about how much he loved to see her ruthlessly handle the businessmen who thought to manipulate her! 

He hoped one day they could live together openly. In the meantime, he had to distribute to everyone their tasks for the day. And he would take care of her as he always did, as her servant and as her man.


	5. It is an ever-fixed mark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N : The companion piece to The star to every wandering bark: C. C.’s POV  
> Genre: Romance/Angst  
> Rating: T+  
> AU: “Her Butler and his Socialite” Universe

That night, as they lay together after making love, their arms around each other as if they were afraid to lose each other if they let go, C. C. could not sleep. Her head nestled in the crook of his neck, she listened to his pulse. It used to calm her when they first got together. Then, laying together in the afterglow used to calm her, and she would cherish the peacefulness that came from being loved by this man. 

Now, however, she could not let go of the fear that engulfed her every time he left her bed, every time he fell asleep and she was left to her thoughts. She knew he was growing tired as tired of the game as she was – it was not enough, not anymore – but she did not know whether she would have the strength to end it. She did not know how not to be a businesswoman/socialite.

Sometimes, she thought she could feel him slipping away from her – and it scared her. From the beginning, she had wanted him to be hers, and she had wanted him happy. But she knew not how to be the woman he deserved. She only knew how to be his employer and his lover. What did he think of the situation? Was it humiliating for him?

The thought brought tears to her eyes. She bit her lip, and could feel them rolling down her cheeks like big fat regrets. He had always fascinated her – from their first real conversation. 

” A gentleman is here to see you, Miss C. C.” said her butler, Gustave. She knew she should have called him Mr Meadows, but he had been her father’s footman then under butler when she was a child and had practically raised her. 

“Let him in, Gustave” she had answered. It was ten o’clock at night, and she was only wearing her robe in top of her dressing gown. She had no make-up on, but decided it did not matter. In an instant, she became Miss Babcock, the powerful businesswoman.

“Miss Babcock”, he had said “forgive me for barging on you unannounced at such an hour, but…”

“Why did you come unannounced if you were afraid it would not be well received, Mr…?” 

“Brightmore, Miss. Niles Brightmore. And I had to come now, I could not come at any other time”

She nodded and considered him carefully. The man was obviously well-mannered. She remembered him from somewhere. Deep in her thoughts, she had not listened to what he was saying until…

“You’re Lord Sheffield’s butler, aren’t you?”

His jaw clenched, and he retorted: “And you’re supposed to be well groomed, but that does not keep you from being rude”

Her eyes had flashed in fury. She understood immediately that, servant or not, this man would never let her get away with anything. Interesting…

And then, there had been their agreement, a few months after he’d ended up working for her. She had seen his dedication to his work, and she had wanted it to be directed to her. And her only. She had craved his attention, and he had answered with obsequiousness. Then, one night, when she was sick, they had talked. And their liaison was born. Liaison. She had always despised that word. It meant “bonding” in French but, really, what did it relate to except sex?

The man had made her chicken soup and brought it to her. He had held her as she shook from the cold, while the cooling fire was slowly going back to life. And he had kissed her forehead just as she was falling asleep. She had always known that he held a fascination for her – just as she held one for him. This, however, this was more. More than just fascination, more than dedication. The man seemed to feel affection for her. And she had taken it as an overture. He had recoiled in apprehension, and she had surprised him. 

“I don’t want to end up hurting you, Niles. I would ask you, again and again, to give, to hide every gesture, every glance, every feeling? Because nobody could know, Niles, nobody could know of our feelings for each other, of what we would do at night or whenever we’re alone, of… Niles, I cannot ask that of you. It would not be fair.” That had surprised him. He had seemed almost shocked that his affections had been received with such gentleness. She had not rebuffed him cruelly, had not fired him on the spot, she had answered.

“You don’t have to, Miss Babcock, it is freely given.” Her eyes widened slightly. She had been feverish, but his tender care had broken through the worst of her influenza, and she was lucid, her mind clear enough to know exactly what he was offering her, and what he was giving up. 

C. C. Babcock, the famous New York socialite and businesswoman, had been touched. This was a good man, a very intelligent man. And until then, she could only hope that his attentions were motivated by more than professional dedication. Butterflies were doing somersaults in her stomach.

“You can’t possibly know that you will never regret it."

“Forgive my forwardness Miss Babcock - C. C., but I can, because… “he had taken a deep breath and jumped “ because I love you”

C. C. was sobbing, now. She was shaking in his arms, and she desperately wanted him to comfort her, while still hoping to preserve his sleep. He stirred and his arms tightened around her body. He moaned and his eyes fluttered open.

“Hmm? C. C.?” he whispered still groggy from the heavy sleep “Love, what is it?”

She did not answer him, could not answer him, as her sobs grew heavier. She threw her arms around him and buried her head in his chest, her fingers digging into his back. She was scared that he would leave if she let him go.

He held her tight, trying to calm her down, his hands rubbing circles on his back. He had never seen her like this, not even when her sister had died a few years ago. She was such a strong woman; he did not know what could possibly have hurt her like that.

Her sobs subsided, and he held her tight, his chin on the top of her head. Then, he pulled back a little, hoping to speak to her face to face, dry her tears, and kiss her. But she whimpered like a small child whose stuffed animal had been taken from her, and held him even tighter. 

“I… Don’t leave me, please, Niles. I… I…”

“Why would I leave you, love?”

“Be-because this… this relationship is not enough. I know it doesn’t make you happy. I know that you want…”

“C. C., look at me, love.” He held her arms, and looked in her eyes. His heart broke at the defeat he saw in hers. “C. C. You do make me happy. I love waking up every day in your arms, do little things for you and receive little attentions from you every day. Love, I know the rules, I always did.”

“You… you don’t want out?”

He smiled softly, flattered to be so important for this woman. 

“C. C., I always thought that, if one of us wanted out, it would be you. And I would probably have to leave, because I wouldn’t have been able to see you without being with you. But I don’t resent you. I hate the rules, but I understand why we live by them, why we hide.”

“But is it enough, Niles?” he hesitated, and she hated herself for asking again “Is it enough for you? Because I’m not sure it is still enough…”

“Do you… want to break the rules? I can live by them, and not have regrets, you know. And I’ll never ask…”

“More than I can give, I know. But don’t you see? You’re always giving me way outs, abiding by the rules that we must live by because of my status, me. And I can’t…”

“C. C., I’m never going to leave you. It’s a promise.”

“Niles, you would tell me, wouldn’t you, if the rules became too much?”

“And you, C. C., would you say it?”

“I- I think I’m saying it now, Niles”


	6. A marriage of true minds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N : The sequel to It is an ever-fixed mark.  
> Genre: Romance/Angst  
> Rating: T+  
> AU: “Her Butler and his Socialite” Universe

“Niles, you would tell me, wouldn’t you, if the rules became too much?”

“And you, C. C., would you say it?”

“I- I think I’m saying it now, Niles”

For a moment, he was speechless. He had never considered the idea that she might want more. It would have been too painful, true or not. He thought she deserved the world, but knew he could not be the one who would give it to her. He never did think that he, the butler, might be enough for her…

As if she sensed his doubts, she tenderly caressed his cheek with her hand. 

“I doubt it ever really was enough for me, but in our first years, I could still convince myself that I should not hope for more. I was still able to push down any aspiration I had. But, Niles, we’ve together more than ten years and this- this relationship, it’s not enough anymore.”

He automatically misunderstood her words and froze in her arms. Then, he remembered the fears she had expressed just before, and how she had sobbed, sobbed, pleading for him to please not leave her, and he relaxed slightly. 

He brushed his lips against hers in reassurance, then he kissed her again and deepened the kiss. One of his hands moved to her hair, entangling itself in the blond locks while the other pulled her hips to his. She could feel desire coursing through her once more, and threw her soul into their kiss. When they broke off, they were moving against each other again…

…………………………………………………………………

Afterwards, they were exhausted both by the conversation and the lovemaking. Sated, but slightly nervous at the prospect of finding a way to go public “quietly”, they were slowly falling asleep when she whispered with a soft smile:

“Let’s elope, my Butler Boy”

He chuckled and possessively pulled her body even more into his.

…………………………………………………………………

The following month found them both in a small Tennessee town hall, exchanging vows and signing their marriage license. Their witnesses? Mr Meadows, C. C.’s retired butler, and his wife, Mrs Kent, C. C.’s former cook. The retired servants had both known the socialite when she had been just a little girl. They had seen the interactions between the then under butler and the socialite during Niles’ first year there, and had not been surprised to learn that they were in a relationship. What had taken a little time, however, had been to accept that they were marrying in their little town! Mrs Meadows still chuckled at her husband’s face when the couple had showed up on their doorstep:

“Miss C. C.! What a surprise! Hum, come in, come in…” 

“Hello, hello, Gustave. “she had said. Niles had echoed her sentiment, and Gustave’s eyebrows went up to his hairline. The young man was stepping out of his role that openly?! His wife Mary had watched in bemusement how the two of them behaved around each other: she held his hand, her eyes softened when she looked at his face, they sat down together?! Surely, it could not mean that…

“Gustave, Mrs Meadows, Niles and I are eloping!!”

Her husband had nearly fainted on the spot. Mary Meadows had been glad for the two of them of course, but very apprehensive.

“What are you going to do when your family finds out?” had been blurted out before she could stop it, and Niles smiled uncomfortably.

“We’re eloping, Mrs Meadows. I have made sure that the New York theatres are booked for good plays for the moment, and as soon as we receive our marriage license, my parents will not be able to get to my money. Then…”

“The girl” as Mary had always called her went on explaining excitedly how they would go on a honeymoon in Europe, then visit Niles’ parents in Britain, then return to New York to announce it to her family. She knew that they would most certainly hate the union – they would see it as a mésalliance- but C. C. was undeterred. If New York became off limits, explained Niles, then they would go to Britain, Canada, New Zealand or even Australia, places with plenty of work for a theatre businesswoman and her husband “the most incredible man in the world” had gushed the girl.

The young people stayed a few days in the town, visiting the Meadows, and their elders were glad that they stayed at the quite decent motel a few streets back. Having them in their house would have been awkward, for various reasons…

………………………………………………………………

C. C. sighed as they sat side by side on the train that would take them back to New York. She was anxious to see their home again, but was also very nervous. 

“C. C.?” his voice shook her out of her reverie, and she smiled nervously at him. The first-class compartment suddenly seemed too confined, too oppressive, and she felt trapped in it. She fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve, her head bent down.

“Do you- Are you alright?”

“Wha-? Well, yes. Yes, Niles, everything is alright” she answered in a strange tight voice. He took her hands in his, trying to reassure her.

“C. C., please, tell me. Is it… is it the marriage?”

“In a way…” he thought heart would stop, and willed himself not to panic. “Niles, what if your parents hate me?” He nearly laughed out in utter relief.

“Love, they’ll love you. You are… “

“The spoilt rich girl with no practical skill who managed to snatch their son?” That made him raise his eyebrow. Was that really how she saw herself? He had to redouble his efforts in showing her how wonderful she was, then.

“No, my love, you are the wonderful woman who stole my heart with just one look and one laugh. The successful businesswoman, the delicate, loving and passionate woman…”

“Delicate, Niles?” she whispered, in that sweet disbelieving way, and he had to smile. The train was taking off and shuddered slightly - like a spiffing horse anxious to depart – throwing her in his arms. He continued, tickling her ears with his whispers, planting feather kisses on her face and neck:

“Yes. And adorable, loving, good to her employees, glorious in her business deals, passionate, desirable, exciting, alluring, arousing, sexy…” 

She wanted to ask him if he had swallowed an entire dictionary, but he was too distracting. She put a finger under his chin and looked deeply in his eyes. Then her gaze fell on his full lips. Her tongue wetted her lips in anticipation. She leaned into him and…

WHAM! The compartment door opened with a bang to another, certainly grouchier, couple. Disappointed, they disentangled themselves from each other, as the elder man and woman muttered something about “young people” and “no decency nowadays”. She suddenly wanted to claw their eyes out, for daring to imply that Niles and her had no right to kiss in public. Her back rigid, she was about to get up and give them what for when Niles intertwined their fingers and brought her hand to his lips, his eyes never leaving her face. She calmed down and blushed, as he told the others to forgive them because they had been engaged for a long time, but had just gotten married.


	7. Admit impediments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N : The sequel to A marriage of true minds. I apologise for updating only now, but I had people at home and had to entertain. I am now on holiday for a few days in Reims (France). I hope to be back with fresh ideas ASAP ;)  
> Genre: Romance/Angst  
> Rating: T+  
> AU: “Her Butler and his Socialite” Universe

It was with some apprehension that the newlyweds stepped off the train and into their new life that foggy morning. They would have to make some sort of announcement to the household regarding the wedding, and their future. C. C.’s domestics had known of their affair. In a house full of servants, it would have been impossible to keep under wraps. 

Many had disapproved, of course. Interclasses relations were not frequent, and to the higher or lower classes they were nothing to be proud of. To the servants, it was even worse. You suddenly became part of two worlds, and did not belong in any. Usually, it also led to petty actions and revenge, and most domestics in a house where they knew such an affair was going on simply left their employment. C.C. and Niles’ affair, however, had not had much impact on the household. Niles had always been a fair man, and did not use his new place in C.C.’ s bed to one-up his subordinates. 

If their affair had ruffled a few feathers, they could be sure that their marriage would have an even stronger effect. As they waited for the cab, Niles tried to not spare to much thought to it, but he was extremely nervous. As the butler, he had been slightly isolated from the rest of the domestics. As C.C.’s lover, however, they had become to avoid him. 

C. C. stood beside him, her hand in his, smiling nervously. He kissed her hand and gave a soft smile. They kept silent. No word was needed between them as they waited. They understood each other. The air around them was filled with nervousness and trepidation. 

When the taxi arrived, he let her sit first. She gripped his hands in hers and let herself be supported by his body. She felt warm when he was against her. She tried to squish down the nervousness and angst assailing her, to no avail: it only served to make her more nervous. She was worrying her lower lip with her teeth, a good indicator of her stress. Niles managed to extricate his hands from her steel grip. She turned to him, quite dismayed. To reassure her – which was his intention in the first place -, her husband kissed her temple and intertwined their fingers.

Her husband. C. C. did not think that she would ever get used to that. She was Mrs Niles Brightmore! It was quite a feat for a woman who had once expected to die alone, unmarried, as no man wanted her. Her wedding had been a spur of the moment decision inspired by the fear to lose the only man that she had ever loved and who had ever loved her. But she did not regret it. In fact, she relished the feeling of happiness and completeness that it gave her. And she was proud. Proud to have been able to cast off the shackles of her condition. Prod to be called Mrs Brightmore. Proud that of all the women that he could have chosen – a man like him would have been quite the catch after all – he had chosen her, C.C. Babcock, the unlovable, cold and aloof Witch of Broadway, not only as his lover, but also as his wife. 

Still, the domestics’ reactions worried her. And her parents’. If the news reached them that her husband was a former domestic, Niles and her would have to leave town. “Maybe even the country” she thought.   
The car stopped. They had finally arrived at her town house. As Niles paid the driver, she opened the door and came face to face with her under-butler, Johnson. He helped take off her coat and put it in the wardrobe. She gestured for him to do the same with Niles’. That took him aback. His brow raised, he helped his former superior to take off his coat. 

“Mr Brightmore and I are married now, Johnson.” she said, smiling softly at her husband. Both men understood the tacit comment to treat Niles accordingly. The under-butler’s eyes widened in shock. Not that it was a surprise that these two were involved, of course. This, however, was quite unheard of. Socialites took domestics as lovers, as did Masters for their maids or secretaries. But breaking the separation between classes with marriage? He had never heard it in his mistress’ circle. Ever the consummate professional, Johnson quickly recovered.

“Will you be needing a valet, sir?” he asked Niles “One of the footmen could easily be affected as your temporary valet, until we find someone suitable for the post, of course.”

“I shan’t, Mr Johnson. My wife has no use for a maid. I would have none for a valet.”

Johnson nodded. “Your room have been prepared if you’d like to freshen up, Madam, Sir. And your parents are waiting in the living room, Mrs Brightmore.”

“What?!” she ejaculated “I apologise, Johnson, the journey has exhausted me. Could you repeat that, please?”

“Certainly, Madam. Your parents, Mr and Mrs Stuart Babcock, are waiting in the living room, Madam.”

She felt faint, and supported herself with Niles’ arm. 

“It seems that we are facing the firing squad sooner than expected, love” he whispered “Try to stay calm”


	8. Admit impediments (2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N : The sequel to Admit impediments, written in y new notebook :) I’ve decided that I would create a proper story with this AU, so I’ll run it to the conclusion that I had envisioned.   
> Genre: Romance/Angst  
> Rating: T+  
> AU: “Her Butler and his Socialite” Universe

As soon as Johnson had announced the presence of C. C.’s parents, Niles’ nervousness had come back with a vengeance. It was making it difficult to walk into the sitting room, to see them. His palms were becoming clammy; his heart rate had increased tremendously… He felt like a fool entering the dragon’s lair. 

He did not doubt C. C.’s feelings in the slightest. Nor did he think that her parents’ disapproval – and disapprove, they would. How could they accept a butler in the family? – would be the cause of their future… separation. He would not say divorce. It would be an improbable conclusion to their story. For “divorce” still carried a stigma, even in this day and age. And Niles highly doubted her parents would in any way be pleased by it. 

However, he was afraid that they would shun her, effectively rejecting her from the family. And he knew what her father and brother meant to her. Even her mother was very important to C. C. Or that they would send her off to be swallowed by the sharks of the newly powerful scandal newspapers. 

If it came to that… well, suffice it to say that the thought of what she might be sacrificing for him left him with dread and angst. He had known this, of course, when he had married her. And, as much as she had said that she would find a way to make sure that her parents did not ruin them, he was starting to have serious doubts about the whole affair.

It was probably because he was going to have to face the music right NOW that worry gnawed at him that much. His heart was still doing a mad dance in his chest, and he swallowed with difficulty, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. He cast a glance at his new wife. She looked as beautiful as she always did. But she was scared. Her eyes that had looked bright a few moments before, had that gleam in them. And her skin had lost its lustre. He never liked to see her like that, and had vowed to always be able to keep the fear away. Of course, C. C. had always been the more adventurous of the two. She had begun with their affair, she had proposed, she was the successful and accomplished businesswoman who had fought her parents to get her money before her majority, and make it thrive. She had founded her own company, owning theatres in London, Paris, New York, and few other cities. She was the one with the relations… Fear had rarely factored in her life, and he hoped that it would continue that way. 

She grabbed his hand a gave him a shaky smile.

“We are together in this, aren’t we, Niles?”

“As long as you want me, love. As long as you want me”

“Forever, then” she answered with that soft look that made him melt every time. Somewhat relieved at the role he played in her life, he motioned for Johnson to announce the to their guests. 

“Mother, Father” saluted C. C. cheerfully, still on her guard when she gave the both of them a kiss on the cheek. “I hope you did not wait too long. Why are you here?”

“We are miserable as always, C. C. dear, thank you for asking” replied her mother in a very dramatic fashion. B. B. Babcock had never been one to accept being ignored.

“We simply wanted to visit, kitten, a spur of the moment visit, if you like” replied Stuart Babcock.

“And who might this gentleman be, C. C. dear?” asked her mother, who seemed to notice everything, even Niles hovering over his wife. 

C. C. smiled brightly. “This is Niles Brightmore, my husband”

C. C.’s mother sputtered and nearly strangled herself with the hot tea that she had asked Johnson to serve while they waited for their daughter. The lady recovered quite quickly, however, and smiled like a venomous snake who had found a ridiculously resisting prey. There was a light of incredulity in her eye. C. C.’s father seemed just as shocked, but merely raised his eyebrows to his hairline. 

“I’m sorry, C. C. dear, I must have misheard, or did you just say that you married your butler?” asked Mrs Babcock. At that time, Niles had never more hated the “C. C. dear” that her mother kept on calling her daughter. Mr Babcock did not look furious, not yet anyway – it was a small relief. 

C. C. took Niles’ hand in hers and looked into his eyes for some sort of support. He smiled gently, and nodded.

“Yes, mother. You heard correctly. We love each other, and…”

“And we got married two weeks ago” finished Niles. 

Mr and Mrs Babcock’s heads turned right to him. B. B.’s eyes with fury – how dare that “man” interfere in the conversation, Stuart with some interest. For a fleeting moment, Niles wondered if this was what a mouse felt when it came face to face with a cat. He kept wondering of this was the moment where they would bust him out of her life, or ostracise her.

“You eloped, you mean” grumbled Stuart. 

“So?” replied C. C. tersely.

“Well, I’m sure that we could still get you out of this situation, dear. There’s always a solution. You cannot want to… well, an annulment should be possible”

“No, Mother. I refuse to leave my husband. I love Niles, and I…”

“But, C. C. dear, the scandal!”

“Ladies, enough!” intervened Stuart “C. C. is old enough to make her choices. She is legally major, after all, and legally married. And I doubt that there will be much scandal unless we spread the story” Ever the consummate and level-headed businessman, Stuart had kept his cool. 

“What?! You… Stuart, you would give them your blessing?!”

Niles looked at the man with interest. He was certainly taking this better than his over-the-top wife. Still, he could not help looking for the catch. 

“Kitten, why don’t you go freshen up?” asked Stuart “Niles and you must not have had time to do so since returning from your trip”

“Well, I…” Torn between escaping the Inquisition, and staying to deter them from their new prey, C. C. hesitated. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, and smiled softly with that twinkle in his eyes. She nearly melted on the spot. 

“Go. You will feel better afterwards. You know how you always hate to wait before freshening up”

“A-Alright, then. I’ll be back soon” she said getting up. Their fingers were still intertwined, and C. C. seemed unable to let go of him. He smiled at her again, and Stuart Babcock had the disagreeable impression that he was intruding on a very private scene, in his daughter’s house. Come to think of it, had he not sometimes felt that way when he was visiting his daughter, and she was in a room with her butler? His wife, however, seemed ready to burst. The familiarity between the two seemed too much for them. 

C. C. left the scene, dread creeping up her back. She something crucial was on the verge of happening, and she doubted it would be at her advantage. After that tête à tête, she was certain that Niles would go. Tears pooled in her eyes as she shakily made her way up the stairs. She brushed them aside, and inhaled deeply. “Drop the silliness, C. C.” she told herself “Niles will not leave you”

In the library, the silence was deafening. Niles tried to stay calm, his eyes going from one wolf to the other, but his wife’s departure seemed too ominous for it to work. He tried not to falter under their inquisitive gazes. B. B. looked ready to murder him, while Stuart’s eyes had a calculating glint, as if he were measuring their options with extreme care.

“Mr Babcock, Mrs Babcock, I… I know how shocked you must be”

“Are you, servant?! You cannot possibly imagine how astonished and irate we are right now. Why, the scandal alone would ruin our family name!”

“B. B., calm down, will you?’ he said, putting a calming hand on his wife’s arm. “I’m sure that you can understand that we are quite shocked. C. C. had never even expressed the wish to marry one day. As far as we knew, she had never intended to marry, even as a little girl. And she had only gone to events with friends, a few dates, but never anything serious. To hear, now, that she is married, that she eloped, and with a butler no less… We were not prepared for this kind of news. We had simply come to have tea with our daughter."

“As I said, Mr Babcock, I understand that this comes as quite a shock to you. I’m quite aware that women like C. C. do not marry their butlers”

“Women like my daughter, Mr Brightmore?” asked Stuart.

“Rich heiresses, Stuart. The man obviously took advantage of our daughter’s loneliness, and I’ll be damned if…”

“I meant independent, witty, strong businesswomen, Mrs Babcock” cut Niles, eyes blazing “And I highly doubt that anyone could take advantage of her”

The woman snorted. “Well, the man says that now, Stuart, but you know how their type works. The man can only be after her money!”

“Mrs Babcock, I do not care for your daughter’s money, I don’t want it! I love your daughter. I would have married her even without her money, even if she were poor and walked barefoot!”

“Sit down, Niles, I may call you Niles, right?”

Niles looked around, he seemed surprised to be up. He had not noticed that in his outburst, he had gotten up. He sat down, nodding absentmindedly.

“You too, please, B. B. All these outbursts are upsetting my poor ulcer” he said, taking a cigar, and lit it up with a match. He blew up some smoke, before beginning again “Tell me, Niles, would you describe yourself as an honest man?”

“I would like to think that I am one, yes”

“I think that you are, indeed. I suppose that trying to send you off with money would only insult you, and would not make you leave?”

“No, I would not leave my wife, sir”

“To be frank with you, Niles, there is little people can do to deter my daughter when she’s got her mind on something. I think that she loves you. In fact, I do not believe that I’ve ever seen her look at anyone as she looks at you. 

“Stuart, I do not think that it has anything to do with…”

“It has everything to do with it, B. B. Whether we like it or not, Niles and C. C. are married. Since she is both major and sound of mind, there is nothing we can do about it, even if having a former butler for son-in-law is not what I had wanted for my daughter. At least, the man is honest, and loves her. There is nothing we can do about them, but accept their marriage without making waves”

“You’re giving them your blessing?! Stuart!”

“For a woman who’s so afraid of scandal, Mrs Babcock, you seem hell-bent on making one”

“How dare you?!”

“Enough, B. B.! The man is right; you are making a scandal”

“Well, I never!” she huffed.

The three of them were silent for a few minutes. The sound of footsteps echoed around the house; it seemed C. C. was back. She entered the room nervously, wondering what was going on in there, and what the shouts were about.

“Ah! C. C.!” said her father with a smile “we just had a very interesting conversation with your husband”

“Did you? Well, I always thought that he was a good conversationalist” she replied sitting down.

”If you must know, C. C., that man seems to want to stick around as if he was glued to…”

C. C.’s eyes glowed furiously. The nerve of her mother! She hated that her mother dared insult her Niles.

Sensing her ire, Niles gently took her hand, and intertwined their fingers. Their eyes locked, and she gave him a small reassuring smile.

“We know that we have to accept your marriage. There will be no scandal. We won’t cast you out either, C. C.”

Mrs Babcock, apparently deflated and rendered to her husband’s arguments, simply nodded.

“Well, since the only scandal would be what we would invite… Let’s just hope that he’ll find some other form of work”

“Oh, well, I doubt that he’ll need to work another day in his life now that we’re married, but… since you mention it, Mother” said C. C. beaming at her husband, still not quite believing that her parents were not more difficult about it “Niles is an excellent writer”

“Oh, really, what does he write, ledgers?”

“Mother!”


	9. Pen pals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N : A crossover ficlet with HP: I took the concept of the HP crossover from CCNilesBabcock, with her permission, and took into account SOME of Potermore’s intel (only the one about the American School). Some fluff and teenage angst :)  
> Genre: Fluff  
> Rating: K+

When C. C. Babcock opened her eyes that morning, she could feel trepidation take over her body in only a few seconds. She raised herself up as quickly as Lee’s Dracula coming out of his coffin, and laughed at the mental image. She sometimes wondered if she should let her friend Sarah talk her into watching so many old horror flicks. 

While she was from magical background, Sarah came from a No-Maj family, and had struggled with their views of witches, and supernatural in general. During one of their many discussions, C. C. had expressed the need to see what her friend meant by her comments about warts, moon phases, green skin, and so on, and they had started their movie nights. It was good fun, and it served to bring them closer together. I t had also helped her with her pen pal, Niles Brightmore, a boy from Hogwarts, the British School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

It had been Pr Rilke ‘s idea – of course, no one else could have been the instigator of such a thing-, and Pr Dumbledore, from Hogwarts, had immediately accepted. From what C.C. understood, it was to bring the magical communities closer together by making the students exchange owls. How novel! She had thought drily when Pr Mackay, the current Headmistress, had presented the idea. Even the argument seems dried up!

She had begun this whole pen pal thing by faking to be disinterested, because frankly who wanted to have a pen pal at that point? None of her peers, that’s certain! Besides, she was 15, and far too preoccupied with fitting in somewhat, and had tried to at least not appear too much of a freak in that instance. Not that it had ever bothered her before, with Sarah as her friend, but her intelligence and will to use it had always separated her from most girls of her acquaintance whose goals were to make a good society marriage and produce a lot of little heirs. To C. C., that had been a load of crap! She did not know what she was going to be after graduating from Ilvermonry, but she was a Thunderbird: it would be something where she would rock! And somehow, to the other more beautiful, more popular, girls, that made her a freak. Now that she was older and wiser – two years had given her some maturity - , she knew not to take the comments and actions of those backstabbing hags to heart. But they still stung. 

Everyone had been assigned a pen pal. And she hated how primary school the word sounded. Pr Rilke was quite the eccentric, and from what scraps Sarah and her and managed to get, so was Pr Dumbledore. Thus, her expectations of her assigned pen pal had been quite low. However, they had quickly hit it off. 

She had learnt that he was a Hufflepuff – apparently, they were also divided in dorms with bizarre names – and was loyal and quick-witted. They had a kind of merry war every time they wrote to each other, and C. C. could not wait to experience his wit in person. It would be glorious. Niles, who was from non-magical background had extensive cultural knowledge: what he knew in No-Maj, was also smart, and could keep up with her lines of reasoning on anything – which had come at quite a surprise. He also understood the pressure of her family’s expectations, being subjected to the same thing from his side of the pond. 

After two years and a half of writing, their teachers had managed to make them meet each other. There would be a two-week stay in Hogwarts, then the pen pals would be going to Ilvermorny with them. 

She could not wait to meet him in person! She wondered what he looked like, how it would be to talk to him instead of writing. Would the conversation flow easily? Would they be tongue-tied in front of each other? She practically ran to the shower, unused at this particular time of the morning. It was 5 am, and she was so excited that she had gotten up two hours early that day, and had checked the contents of her suitcase twice already. As she took her shower, she wondered if she should wait for Sarah to help her with make-up… She wanted to look her best, after all! 

It had to be the most cliché thing, to fall in love with your pen pal… and she was guilty of it. Sometimes, if she did not receive a letter in the week, she would worry that he had found someone else or was becoming too busy for letters, or even that being her pen pal had become a chore… 

But then, she received his letter and her dour mood was lifted… She smiled goofily. Yes, this day had finally arrived, and she could not be more excited!


	10. A Reflection in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N : My new take on the CC/Niles ship and the horror genre. I apologise for the rhythm of the CC/Niles banter, it does not feel good to me, but I cannot manage better tonight – nor I think any other night.  
> I’m experimenting – again, so feel free to criticise and tell me what you think. It is not gory, it’s a different kind of horror story  
> Genre: Romance/Horror/Fantasy  
> Rating: T

Tuuuuuuuuuuuuuuut Tuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuut Tuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuut

The dulcet tones of the alarm clock woke Niles Brightmore up at 5 o’clock sharp. He groaned and snuggled under the covers, pulling his pillow over his head. He was hoping to escape the blasted noise, and get a few more precious seconds of sleep. Alas, it would not be so. The shrillness of his alarm would wake up a hibernating bear. 

With another none too pleased groan, he jerked the covers off him and launched his legs to the side of the bed, while his right hand disarmed the offending object. Niles was not a morning person. In fact, if he was describing himself, he would have so far as to say that he was the opposite of a morning person. Le soir lion, le matin mouton, as his French grandmother said: he could stay up very late, but was useless when he woke up. He had to wonder how he had managed in his line of work for so long… “Using take out usually helped” he thought wryly. But he could not do it all the time. He was a butler who hated to get up… how pathetic! He could add to that a butler who hated to wait upon others and serve. The irony was not lost on him. It was no wonder that the only woman he had ever wanted despised him: he had done nothing with his life. 

When he was a child, he had it all planned: he was going to be a successful barrister, have a beautiful house and an incredible car, and the most incredible woman as his wife. He was also going to get his parents out of service… all thanks to his will and intelligence. When he looked back on it now, he did not know if those had been unattainable childish dreams, or if his spirit had gone out somewhere along the line.  
He had loved to cook then. He had always done it to show how much he cared, when his allowance would not permit him to be fancy. It had been a dream of his to take care of his wife and children with food. To regale them with their favourite dishes and… He shook his head out of the clouds. He had to stop walking down that line. It never did him any good: he only dreamed about those things, and was always disappointed when he woke up. 

Niles went into the bathroom and splashed water on his face, before washing quickly. The family would be up in a little less than two hours, and he had to prepare their breakfast and put on the table. Sometimes, he wished he was working in a hotel, so that the task of setting the table might have been done the previous evening. As it was, everything had to be done the (sometimes not so) old-fashioned way. It was getting very tiring to be him. He wanted a change.

Most of all he longed to do something more with his life, or to have done it before inertia had taken over, and he was stuck in this role of sarcastically clownish butler. Had he become someone, he might not have had to resort to pranks and zingers to get her attention. He shook his head. He had to stop going down this line. Ce qui est fait est fait! It was useless and downright self-depressing to keep rehashing the same old dreams.   
As he went to set up the table, he remembered with a smile that she was coming today. He would make sure that her breakfast experience today included all her favourites: eggs benedict, toast, waffles, pancakes, homemade jam, and coffee. He knew in advance how her face would light up whenever she would notice one of her favourite dishes on the table. She would get that almost shy smile and that twinkle in her eye that spoke of restrained childish glee. She might not realise that he prepared those on purpose, but seeing her bought of happiness spread warmth through his chest. “If only she could see what we could be” he whispered. Not that he would admit to it, of course, had anyone heard. Not that he would admit that she had no reason to it either, what with the pranks and zingers… 

Preparing breakfast did nothing to put him out of his contemplative mood. On the contrary, he kept recalling “moments” that they had experienced, especially that kiss.

He could remember it all, the spark in her eyes, the alcohol on her lips, the way her hands had wound up in his hair, her perfume, her scent, the way her breasts pressed against his chest…

“Good morning, Niles” Mr Sheffield’s salute shook Niles out of his reverie. He snapped to attention, and began the mundane task of serving breakfast to the family he had come be some part of. He immersed himself in it, inserting sarcasm in the conversation almost mechanically – like an android on autopilot. He came alive again, when he heard the doorbell. It had to be her.

“Well, look at that! King Kong fled from the zoo!”

“Very funny, Fay Wray, too caught up playing Madame Spy with the intercom to hear the bell?” said C. C., entering the room. He divested her from her coat, and hung it in the closet.

“I know the movie must have made an impression on you. Tell me, how good was the premiere?”

She glared at him and marched down to the dining room, where she sat down on her customary seat. 

He gave her a plate, suspiciously full of her favourites. She raised a questioning eyebrow at him, and took a mouthful of the eggs benedict. Her eyes widened. They were excellent. A soft, shy smile appeared on her lips, and she ate mostly in silence. He had not messed up with her breakfast. Even her coffee was moderately good. It was not gravy at least. He observed her, smiling inside. He knew she loved it when she prepared her favourite food. And he particularly enjoyed the smile on her face at those times. Of course, he would have to find a way to prank her later. She could not guess that he…

A noise interrupted his thought. Something at the backdoor. Frowning, he made his excuses, and went up to his domain. He sighed in relief: it was just the UPS man.

“Hi. I’ve got a delivery for a Mr Niles Brightmore?”

“That’s me. But I did not ask for anything.”

“Just sign there, sir. I deliver, I don’t ask what’s in the box”

“Hmpf. Well, thanks anyway.” He found himself with a heavy box. He quickly went up to his room, and deposited it on his bed. Then, he got back to the dining room, and his customary spot near Maxwell.

“What was that, old man?”

“Nothing, sir, a delivery for me”

“Wow, Niles! What did you get?” asked a nasal voice on his right side. 

“I don’t know, Miss Fine. I do not recall buying anything, to be honest”

C. C. snorted. “Your memory fuzzy again, Methuselah?”

“Like you can talk, Babs. You need the fresh blood of young children to stay alive, remember?”

“C. C., why don’t we go look over the new contracts, hmm?”

“Alright” she answered. She would not have admitted it, but she was quite put out that their little fight had been broken. She followed her business partner with a slight pout.

Niles’ jaw tensed in irritation. He hated it when Mr Sheffield interrupted their banter as if they were naughty children. Thankfully, the children and Miss Fine did not take too long before leaving the room, and did not question his change of mood. The rest of the day passed in a busy blur. He pranked Babcock once, and just enough to ensure that she did not think that he had become a softie. He chuckled to himself as he thought about it. To make her run around the house like a deranged dog for some contracts, that was a good one!

As he entered his room, the first thing that he noticed was the box. It had been opened. Not by the children or Miss Fine, apparently: the carboard bits were not strewn everywhere. 

Inside, there was a mirror. Not a modern, purely functional one, but one of those 1870’s Venetian mirrors with a gilded frame of intricate designs. It was not a mirror that one would expect a man to own. It resembled the period movie props from the sixties. Still, he looked inside, expecting to see the worn-out reflection of an older butler. 

What he saw inside, however, he knew it would haunt his dreams forever. Niles looked at his reflection in surprise, and his 48 years old self winked. He recoiled in surprise and still, the Niles in the mirror looked back at him, unsurprised and smiling. He was wearing a suit that he could never hope to buy in his entire life. He was wearing a platinum gold watch, and assorted cufflinks. To his right stood a beautiful bl- C. C.! looking as beautiful as ever, in an elegant royal blue silk dress. She had her arm looped around his middle, and her head on his shoulder. Then, she kissed him on the cheek. The Niles and the C. C. in the mirror looked at each other, and kissed lazily on the mouth. 

Niles was shocked. What had he drunk or eaten tonight?! He tore his eyes from the mirror and put it on his desk. Then, he put on his pyjamas and after his nightly ablutions, went to bed with a sigh. To see C. C. and him so in love and happy in the mirror… it had done something to him. A fluttering of painful butterflies flew in his chest. It would never happen. She would never look at him like that, would never love him. He fell asleep with the loving gaze she had cast him in the mirror. 

The following morning, the mirror was on the wall of his bathroom. He looked at it, and in the morning hours, it seemed like a perfectly normal mirror. When he went there at night, however, the scene of C. C. and his double was back. This time, they were playing with a little girl who looked like a 5 years old version of C. C. with his smile.

After that, he spent his days in a haze. Niles would work the entire day then, as soon as he retired to his rooms, he would lose himself to the world in the mirror. Soon, his relationship with C. C. began going down the drain. She began going out with that “Chandler” person, and he lashed out in jealousy. 

He found ways to sneak up his room during the day, and watch scenes of the life he could never have with C. C. Quiet nights around the open-fire, their first date, the first time she confessed her feelings, … Soon, he felt that he needed them. They got him through his mundane tasks and boring days. The mirror became all that he could think about. He did not talk to Miss Fine about it, and their conversations became spaced out. His time in C. C.’s presence became both a blessing and a curse. When he saw the real C. C., Niles could not help wonder if, maybe… but she soon acted snobbish or made such a fuss of her dates with Chandler, that he became nastier. The mirror became his refuge from her, too. 

He needed to see it all the time. So much so, that he began to imagine the scenes that he would see at night. When he was dusting in the office, he looked at C. C., and saw the light play with her figure and her hair. He could pretend that they were together in the park, walking hand in hand like lovers… In those moments, he would begin to feel faint. He often had to support himself on counters or desks. Gradually, he felt his strength leaving him. He wanted to see the mirror. He went up to his room, leaving his duster on the desk. 

Once in his bathroom, he looked in the mirror. Nothing. Nothing. He checked the time: 10:30 am. Too early, maybe. He would wait. Maybe he’d get to see it tonight. 

He went back to his chores. Lunch usually occupied him enough that he could keep thoughts of the mirror at bay, but today, it was impossible. The thought kept gnawing at him. Was the mirror broken? Would he be able to see tonight? After serving, he hurriedly climbed up to his rooms. He went directly to his bathroom. The mirror had disappeared. In its place, he found his usual, normal mirror. No Venetian design, no gilded frame. 

He ransacked his room. It was nowhere to be found. Suddenly short of breath, panic climbing up his spine, Niles went back to the bathroom. It was gone. Gone. He had no future with C. C., and now, he could not even watch it! Rage filled him, and he punched his mirror. Blood trickled down his wrist, and into the sink. He watched his reflection in the many shards. The mirror reformed itself. There was not a crack on its smooth silvery surface. Colours began to form shapes on the mirror. They spiralled into a kaleidoscope of light, before morphing into her face. But it was not what he was used to seeing. It was not a scene of the two of them living happily somewhere. It was C. C., but she was laughing at him, mocking him with such cruelty in his eyes that he cried out. He yelled at her, unintelligible words that came out scrambled, making out one big wail. He raised his fist and crushed her image, again, and again, and again, until the mirror exploded into thousands of tiny shards that cut his skin. 

He felt a constricting pain in his chest, and everything went black.


	11. The case of the abandoned hat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N : Something fluffy because I needed lightness tonight :)  
> Genre: Fluff  
> Rating: K  
> PI Niles is back with another interesting “inquiry”. This time, an abandoned hat…

That morning, as he awakened, Niles Brightmore immediately felt two things. The first was surprise, the second was relief. To be clear, the butler who sometimes officiated as “PI” for the family, was surprised at the relief that he felt. For days now, he had suffered from a bad case of the flu, which had left him with a bad taste in the mouth, and some dizziness that the fever and general state of weakness always left him with, as well as low blood pressure. In those times, he had to lie down and sleep it off, absorb a lot of fluids – especially a horrid chicken soup that Miss Fi-Mrs Sheffield just had to make – and take meds like a good patient – that he generally was not. He hated to take pills or drink that disgusting syrup, or even to rub Vicks under his nose or on his chest. That slimy substance… he shivered just thinking about it.

He felt much better today. Not only had the phlegm receded from his nasal conducts, but his head did not feel like woollen lead anymore. Yesterday, his eyes had such difficulty to adapt to the light of the sun, that they burned because of the luminosity of the gentle rays of sunlight filtering through the window or the curtains. 

Today, however, his head did not even hurt. He could move it from side to side, and not feel like an axe had gone right through his head. 

He groaned. While the lack of fever, and the good sleep had left him feeling slightly refreshed, Niles still felt quite queer. He pulled his legs to the side, as if the slightest effort was going to break him in half - he was surprised that it did not – and raised his torso, slowly getting up. He turned his head to the side, and saw the glass of water that someone had obviously left for him. He knew it was not him. He had been feverish yesterday, but not to the point of forgetting.

There were only a few other “culprits”, then. Mr Maxwell Sheffield could be set aside. The man had not even noticed that Niles had been sick until he had almost keeled over during breakfast 5 days ago. So could Mr Brighton Sheffield. The boy could be nice, but did not have the makings of a nurse. Miss Margaret Sheffield had a good heart, but she was a bit self-centred, and could not take care of a fish. 

That left only three people. Well, two people and a witch. Mrs Fran Sheffield, who had been known to take care of the sick people in the household, especially the children. Miss Grace Sheffield, who had a good heart and could take care of someone sick. And his favourite witch, Miss Chastity Claire Babcock, who rarely acted out for anyone else’s interest, but liked him well enough – she had sat at his bedside when he’d had that heart attack. And C. C. took care of the people she liked. That had to make three: Chester, Maxwell and Niles. Out of the three women, he knew that he would prefer it to be the cheesecake stealing witch. He doubted it, however.

He sighed, got up and made his way to the bathroom. A shower would make him feel more human. After all, he had “suspects” to interrogate later. His mother had always told him to give credit where it was due, after all. As he was walking, he felt something soft under his feet, near the chair. It was not the carpet, but something softer. He looked down and smiled. It was a hat. An abandoned red beret. He fetched it, and put it on the chair. The witch was an old softie! He chuckled. He would have to find a way to “unmask” her. He was still smiling when he went down the stairs to find something to eat, and some orange juice; He even chuckled when he heard Maxwell Sheffield say:” C. C. says that she will not be coming in today, Fran. Apparently, she caught the flu while working from the theatre.”


	12. Odi et Amo (1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N : I’ve got poetry on my mind this evening. Here comes an OS on an overdone theme: C. C.’s reaction to Niles’ prank at the hospital, right after his heart attack  
> Genre: Ansgt/Hurt  
> Rating: T

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh!!

The blond woman’s scream echoed throughout the corridors of the hospital, followed by the heavy footsteps of her retreating form. She was fleeing the scene of her heartache under the pitying gazes of the medical personnel. They had seen her sitting here for days, waiting for a man to wake up from his heart attack. The same man, still lying in the bed in the room that she was running away from. One of her gloved hands was up to her mouth, trying to keep in the sobs while her tears flew freely down her cheeks. With her white hat and her white coat, she seemed a wailing apparition, bearing woeful omens.

Once outside, she angrily brushed off the tears of her cheeks, and swallowed with difficulty. “Stupid! Stupid! An idiot! That’s what you are, an idiot!!” why had she let herself get worried over that… that… lowlife! She looked up to the sky; it was dark and cloudy. You could barely see the stars behind the black woollen shapes and the city lights. A car drove by, its motor roaring like an angry feline as it ran into the murky puddles. Splash!

Something cold and wet jumped on her legs. She looked down. The dirty water had splashed on her legs and her coat. She started to cry again. Those were not the heaving sobs from before, when the emotions had seized her at the jugular. Those were big, hot tears, rolling down her porcelain skin. She bit her lower lip, then called a taxi.

The journey back to her apartment passed in a daze. Time seemed to have stilled, and she was trapped in a foggy haze. She saw nothing. Neither the buildings, nor the cars. The lights nor the flashy neons. The voice of the taxi driver, the noise of the city, nothing could reach her ears; not even the sound of her own breathing. She was lost in the fog of her own mind, where she no sensation could reach, where she could feel nothing. Neither the warmth of the heating system, nor the cold of the humid windows.

Getting off the car, she gave the money to the driver. Her hands were shaking, and she shivered. Seeing her red-rimmed eyes and her apparent fragility, the man asked her if she was alright – she seemed to suffer from the flu. 

She did not acknowledge his words, barely noticing he was talking, and entered her building. She did not notice the frown of the doorman whom, for once, she did not salute. Her cheeks felt uncomfortably hot, and were reddened by her brief time in the cold. Her fingers slipped on the command of the elevator, that still managed to bring her to the floor. She fumbled through her pockets, and shakily opened the door.   
It slammed back behind her, and she jumped, startled by the noise. Her bag fell from her arm, and she snatched her off-white beret from her head, sending it flying through the room. She ran a hand through her dishevelled hair. It fell on her belly with the remnants of her energy. Her coat did not make it to the coat hanger either. It fell in a puddle at her feet. 

She made her way to her bedroom, not hearing the barks of her Pomeranian, Chester, who, for once, had greeted her at the door. The animal sensed the bereft mood of his mistress, and followed her, hopping on the bed as the sobs claimed her again.

The stress of the last few days – when she had not known whether he would live or die – had taken its toll on her. Two scenes kept playing in her mind: Niles in the kitchen, his eyes rolling in his skull, falling on the tiles; Niles in his hospital bed, showing her the adjacent bed with that “oh-so-innocent” look on his face. She cursed herself for her foolishness. She should have understood that it was a prank. She should have known better than to care… What she could not understand was why. Why had he done that when she… 

She, C. C. Babcock, had spent days at his bedside, sleepless nights, from the moment he fell in the kitchen to the moment he had awakened. She had moped around the house, missing him so much that she had confided in Nanny Fine of all people, and had been glad to drink gravy instead of coffee. Niles and C. C. had always had a peculiar relationship. From the moment she had passed the threshold of the Sheffield’s, Niles had been a thorn on her side. A handsome thorn. A somewhat reliable thorn. Someone who could unnerve her, make her vulnerable, amuse her, leave her with murderous thoughts,… with one comment, one prank, one look. Sometimes, they’d been good to each other, they had shared… moments. Moments that she looked on with fondness, affection… Moments that made her chest flutter, and butterflies fly in her belly. Moments where she had felt a spark, a definite attraction between them. Like that kiss in the den, like that dance in the den, like the times they had helped each other… 

Obviously, none of that had ever mattered to him. Otherwise, why…? 

She tried to clamp down those feelings. It did not matter. He was no one. He had never been anything to her, but an insolent servant! “Nothing but a…” the sobs began again. 

Then why did she feel like she’d just been dumped by the man she loved. Why did she feel like her heart had been trampled upon? His cruelty never used to hurt her so. She gave up on understanding it that night. In the morrow, she would call Maxwell and let him know that she was sick. It would not be a lie. She could feel a migraine coming in. Her body felt hot and uncomfortable. Her head was becoming fuzzier and fuzzier as she hid it in the Egyptian cotton of her pillowcase. Chester’s fur felt warm and soft against her neck. 

Yes. Her decision was made. She would take a few days’ rest. She would be back at the mansion in a few days. And no one, no one would know just how much he had hurt her, and especially not him. She would be bitchy, cruel, mean, anything byt hurt and weak. 

This was war.

 

(1) One of Catullus’ most famous elegies, written for his mistress Lesbia:   
odi et amo. quare id faciam fortasse requires?  
nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior.   
I hate and I love. Why would I do that, you may ask?  
I don’t know, but I feel it happening and I am torn apart.


	13. Thaumantis (1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N : Another overdone thing : a DT continuation, Niles’ POV, still inspired by a poem.  
> Genre: Ansgt/Hurt/  
> Rating: T

The deafening silence echoed throughout the room. The shocked faces of the married couple and the pained face of the woman strengthened the feeling that something or someone had just died. Like the smell of gunpowder after the shot that had killed a man, the silence was a tell-tale that tempers had exploded in a clash worthy of the Titans’ War.

The man turned on his heels and went up the stairs, his back rigid, hi head down, and his jaw tense. He left in his wake a devastated woman, whose breath seemed to have been knocked out of her, and who needed to lean her back on the wall to support herself. He did not look back, all but fleeing into the corridor. His chest radiated with pain, as if something had opened his rib cage and reached out to extricate his beating heart. As he arrived near his door, he noticed that his cheek hurt. He had bit it to prevent unshed tears from rolling down. He opened his door, short of breath, and it closed behind him with the slightest noise. 

He leaned on the door-mantle for a few minutes, eyes closed, trying to calm down. The pain in his chest was so sharp that, for a moment, he thought that he was having another heart attack. He felt dizzy and had to sit down. He fell on the bed with thump. The tears began to fall, and soon he was sobbing, like the grey November sky when it let down the pouring rain carried by heavy grey clouds.

Minutes later, the sobs had subsided, and all he was left with was emptiness. 

He looked around, his rooms suddenly seemed to belong to a stranger. It was stranger. All his life had revolved around this house for so long. Around its inhabitants – he could see their faces in his mind. Around her. 

From the first moment he had looked at C. C. Babcock, something had pulled him to her. He had wanted her to notice him, to see him, Niles, not the butler. In a misguided attempt to be noticed and valued by the woman, he had become her favourite enemy. “Someone who made her life hell” was more than likely how she would describe him. She had noticed him, but not as a man, not as a potential partner, when over the years he had become more and more aware of the woman behind the workaholic snob. He had noticed her vulnerabilities – and, he was ashamed to say, had used them against her. He had noticed her beauty, her smile, her idiosyncrasies, her elegance. He had also noticed their obvious chemistry, and the attraction he felt for her – he had to fight it every day that he saw her. After a while, he had noticed that she was the highlight of his day. It had made him want to change the game. Or stop it.

But when he had tried to express his feelings, he had only managed to blurt out half-cooked proposals. His wit, that had so often helped him out of situations, had deserted him. 

He sighed. It was all for naught. He had put down all his cards on the table, and he had lost. She had refused. No. That, he could have lived with. He would have come to terms with it, he might even have somewhat moved on. She had humiliated him, and broken him so utterly that he had to retaliate in kind. He had never felt so furious. In that moment, his eyes had flashed had her with something akin to hate. He usually was a peaceful man, but he had wanted to wring her neck. He could not bring himself to regret it. 

Now, he was spent. He just wanted to sleep. He ran his hand over his face, and went in the bathroom. He opened the tap, letting the fresh water run over his hands, before splashing his face. It felt good. Like tasting the light after a particularly powerful nightmare. 

Tomorrow, he would be gone. The thought felt bittersweet, and a deafening surge of sadness surged through him. He should not go down this way again. They had both made their decisions, and his was to leave for England in the morning. Tomorrow, he would call the airport. He went back to his bed and carelessly threw his suitcase on it, opening it on contact. 

Mawkishly, he opened his wardrobe, and began ruffling through his clothes. The sooner this chore was over and done with, the sooner he could sleep and forget…

 

(1) One of Jacob Van Zevecote’s odes to Thaumantis. He was a poet from 17th century Ghent, who wrote both in Latin and in Flemish. Those odes are written in Flemish, and were written in his youth. I worked on one of his tragedies for my thesis :) I thought that this one conveyed Niles’ feelings for C. C. after their confrontation.  
Thaumantis, die gewont  
My hielt tot in den gront,  
En liet de liefde proeven,  
En sal door haer gelaet  
Dat schoon is, maer te quaet,  
Mijn hert niet meer bedroeven.  
Haer oogen vol fenijn  
Gescheyden van de mijn  
Meer dan dry hondert mijle,  
En sullen niet meer voen  
De sorgen, die my doen  
Afnemen alle wijlen.  
Ick sal haer wreet gemoet,  
Lang met myn pijn gevoet,  
Versmaden en verachten;  
Ick sal gans van haer min  
Aftrecken mijnen sin,  
Afscheyden mijn gedachten.  
Thaumantis, who held me,  
Hurt, to the depths of the earth  
And let me feel the taste of love,  
Will no longer aggrieve my heart  
By her face: she is beautiful,  
But too mean.  
Her eyes full of venom  
Shall be away from mine,  
Separated by more than 300 miles,  
And shall no longer feed the care   
That made me forget the hours.  
Her cruel soul,  
Long fed by my woe,  
I shall despise and disdain;  
I shall turn my heart away   
From the frontier of her love,  
I shall break my memories.


	14. Kilissa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I talk about a (very edulcorated) version of the Trojan War with my first years (11-12 y.o.), and it got me to buy and read this great novelisation of the life of Clytemnestra and Kilissa, her Cilician maid. Kilissa, is simply the adjective in the female form meaning Cilician. You guessed right, she was a captive from a former raid. The book is Kilissa by Marie-Bernadette Mars, and I recommend it :) (although, I doubt that it was translated, it’s in French).  
> I have no idea why, but this got me thinking about “what if CC herself became “Kilissa” in another palace, where the king, with a rather smaller territory than Agamemnon, but administering it fairly would be Niles? Anyway, this is the product of a cut thumb and too much caffeine, also I blame Chinese food  
> Kilissa/Kali = CC  
> Nikias = Niles  
> Yes, these are real names, Kali is the name of a Hittite queen. Nikias the name of an Athenian general. The OS takes place at the peak of Hittite’s and Mycenian’s difficult relations (around 4000 years ago)  
> Please, tell me what you think about it. I like to get feedback on m experimentations.

She had been 13 when her life had changed for the first time. 

Before, she had been a princess. She had run through wheat fields, heavy with the crops. She had played with her older brother, with her older sister. She had played with her nurse. She had learned from her mother the etiquette and conduct expected of the daughter of a Hittite governor. She had learned from her father about diplomacy, and wars, and trade. She had learned to govern her own house, the house of her husband, when she would marry.

Before, she was free. Before, she had been Kali. Before, she wore the name of a queen.

Now, she was only Kilissa. Kilissa the Silent. Kilissa the Captive. Kilissa.

Before, she lived in her father’s palace. Before, she was a governor’s daughter.

Now, she lived in someone else’s. Now, she belonged to someone else.

 

For months after that day, Kilissa had nightmares. 

She saw the day the banners had come. Other people, beyond the sea, coming to declare war on her father – or on his master, the Great King. She hadn’t cared, she still didn’t. The results- the results had been the same. 

They had come on ships, black as a man’s heart. Their sails banging with the wind. They had been quick, cutting the waves. The sky had been blue. The sun was shining, the birds were singing. It was summer. They had laid siege to the city: her father had refused their terms. 

After a few months, they were betrayed by their allies. They cut off their food supply. Father wanted to negotiate. They refused his terms. They killed him there, right before the city gates. Father had talked. The other man had yelled. Father had begged. The other men had laughed. Father had yelled. The other man got offended. One glint in the sun. A cry. Blood everywhere. The body falling on the floor. Father was dead.  
In a few days, they had managed to get into the city. What Kali had not understood, Kilissa did. Even in daylight, she could still see the bloodlust of the strangers. They had wanted death. They had wanted riches. They had wanted slaves. 

First, they had taken her mother and her sister. Then, they had taken her screaming and kicking from her nurse. The old woman begging, crying. Kali had not understood that she would not see them again. Not yet. Not until she saw her brother be executed. She was given to one of the overlords, and shipped back to their land. 

 

Afterwards, Kali became silent. She had nothing to say in these strange lands, with a language she could not understand, people she could barely see.   
They erased everything from her, as was their custom. They stripped her of her name. She became Kilissa. They killed off her voice. She became Kilissa the Silent.  
They gave her to the queen of one of the lords – he called himself “king”. And she became her maid.

The days became weeks. The weeks became months. And every night, Kilissa relived her nightmare.  
The days became weeks. The weeks became months. And every night, Kilissa chanted her name silently. Kali. Kali. Kali. Kali. Kali. Kali. Kali. …  
The days became weeks. The weeks became months. And Kali never forgot.  
The days became weeks. The weeks became months. And Kilissa learned their language. She learned their ways.   
The days became weeks. The weeks became months. And Kali became Kilissa. She got used to the palace. She got used to be the queen’s maid. She got used to being not quite a person.

Kali became Kilissa, and she almost forgot about them. It was too painful. So she tightened her jaw, and focused on her chore. Kilissa was silent. And so was she called. Kilissa was a maid. And so was she called. 

 

She was 17, the second time her life changed. He came. Not to free her. Not to take her back home. He came back to his home. Her home, now. He was the son of the king, and he had finished his education at his father’s host, Eurymedes. His name was Nikias. She called him Anax or Kyrios.

 

When he came back from his years away, Nikias first basked in the glow of the sun of his homeland. He looked at the crops, at the cattle, at the people toiling to make their living good. He looked at the palace. Touched its stones, warmed by the sun. He spoke with the guards. Exchanged pleasantries with anyone he met. Nikias was announced to his parents, and they were both happy to see him again.   
He talked with his father of the lands, how they had thrived. Of trade, how the new routes secured them with new products. Of raids. Of war.  
He talked with his mother of his sister, Iphianassa. How the now 9-year-old thrived in their home. How his mother was happy to see him back to the land. How they all needed him here.  
He has his future laid out for him. One day, he would be king in the stones of his father’s palace, like his father had been before him. And his grandfather. He would try to be a faire king. A good king. He would lead his men in battle, and bring the most of them back…  
He was musing upon the future when he saw her. She was working silently with the laundry, Iphianassa with her. She showed her how to put the clothes out on the laundry string to dry. Her manner was gentle. She sometimes smiled at the little girl as one would smile to a sister. And she was beautiful. The most beautiful woman that he had ever seen. He wanted to go to them.   
Her skin that had once been fair, was tanned by the labour under the sun. He hair had caught Helios’ shine in it. It was pulled back from her face, and moving gently in the breeze. Her eyes had captures the colour of the sea. Her smile. Her smile could make his heart stop in his chest.  
He was pulled to her, attracted to her in a way he never had before. He did not know what.it was, he who had never looked thus at any captive.

 

When his duties permitted, Nikias would try to find her. First, to bask in her beauty. Then, to learn about her day. About the things that made him tick. Then, he wanted to know her, really know her. He wanted to learn her language, wanted to know her name – Kilissa had to be a pale copy of the real thing.   
He tried to talk to her. At the beginning, his tongue always got stuck in his mouth every time he wanted to walk up to her. He decided it would begin with simple formalities. That, surely, he could do. 

 

He had begun to follow her when she was with Iphianassa, or with the queen. He seemed to delight in noting her reactions to the slightest things. It made her wary.  
She did not understand why he would want to. No one wanted to know Kilissa the Silent, and Kali was dead. There was nothing to learn about her. She was Kilissa. Of course, he was the first man to want to have something with her. She had learned that men found her beautiful. She had seen their stares. She had, fortunately, been aloof and strange enough in her silence to repel their advances. It was good. She had no wish to leave her “new family” now.  
The queen was good to her. She had taken to her almost as a new daughter, and around her Kilissa’s silence had become less icy. Gradually, the ghosts of former smiles appeared on her lips.  
Iphianassa was sweet. She had quickly understood Kilissa without even having to talk to her. She took to her as an older sister. Respected her orders almost as much as her mother’s.  
She was not happy, but she was content. She hoped he would not destroy that.

 

Nikias gradually ingratiated himself in her small circle. There were the people she knew and liked from the slaves’ room. There was the queen, who she did love. There was Iphianassa, who she did love. The was the king, she respected. Then, there was him.   
Why did he have to say hello to her, or nod to her, or ask her how her day was? Why did it matter that he asked? She was Kilissa. She was no one. And she could not answer him properly. After the first few times, she had been confused. Then, as he kept on, she had become wary. As nothing untoward happened, she began to get annoyed. Then angry.   
Why don’t you leave me alone?!  
Her raspy words took them both by surprise. She had talked. Shock, dismay, pain, embarrassment, anger. Her face was like the sea tempests that took the lives of so many, and he was powerless under her spell.  
Shock gave way to tenderness. It made her wary and curious.  
I would like to get to know you.   
She fled.

 

Gradually, they began to talk. Her uneasiness gave way to some assurance, and after a while, they could sometimes be found talking to each other. He learned about her parents, about her homeland, about her language. She learned about his lands, his training, his duties. He found out she was mischievous, used to be snobbish, did not know how to relate to people anymore now that she talked again. Iphianassa helped. His mother helped. He helped. She found out he was clever, creative, gentle, fierce, good.  
Somewhere along the way, she fell in love with him.

 

A disease passed over the land. Many got sick. Many died. Those who did not looked at the sky and wondered why. Nikias’ friend died. His sister died. His mother got sick, and barely survived. Kilissa nearly died. His father died. He never caught the disease.   
He had worked with the men to cremate the corpses, and keep the contagion to a minimum. Although it was nor a woman’s job, he and the men brought food, and medicine to the sick. He stood vigil at his sister’s side, at his mother’s side, at his father’s side. He stood vigil at her side.   
Still, after the disease died out, only a third of his people were still there. He became the king, but he had only a few advisors. Although loved by his people, too few of them were left. He would have crumbled under the grief if not for Kilissa. While his mother recovered, it was Kilissa and his old nurse who took care of her. At night, when the nightmares were too strong for him, she joined him in his room. The guard never questioned her. She was Kilissa. And she was devoted to the family.   
At first, they always talked, Kilissa and Nikias. To distract each other, they recalled stories of their childhoods, of happier times. They learned to smile again during those times. She learned to laugh at his (gods-awful) jokes. He learned to love her laughter. She learned to call him Nikias. He learned her name.  
She had chanted it under her breath, as she fell asleep.   
Kali, Kali, Kali, Kali, Kali, Kali, …  
Is that your name, Kali? His voice startled her, but his gentle tone spoke of wonder. Still, she looked at him, defiant.  
And what if it is?  
It is beautiful. It suits you. May I call you Kali? It was the name of a queen, he knew that. And she had always looked like one, he thought.  
I-I … guess so… Nikias.   
His smile was so bright it was nearly painful. Gods, how she loved him.

 

His mother got better. The lands started to heal. The people started to heal. He started to govern properly. He was fair. He was good. She loved him for that.  
His nightmares receded. He still sought her out. She still sent to his rooms at night. They could not spend an entire day without being with each other.   
One night that she had said something particularly witty, he kissed her bright smile away. He had acted out of impulse, and she had had to reassure him that it was not unwanted. She had wanted him for a long time. They kissed again.   
Later, that night, they made love. 

 

As with everything, he was gentle. Gentle with her heart, gentle with her love, gentle with her body. And even when he was energetic, she felt safe.

 

 

She was 19 the third time her life changed. He married her against the wishes of many, for whatever her good qualities, she was only a barbarian captive. She was 19, and her happiness was at its peak. She was 19 when his gods blessed their union.   
Kali was 19, and Kilissa was happy. Kilissa was still there, but she was Kali again. And Nikias loved her, and she loved him. She was 19 and it was the first day of the rest of their lives. She was 19, and she was his queen.

 

 

A/N: I doubt he could actually have married his captive, and had legitimate children, but I wanted a happy ending for this :)


End file.
